Impresario
by SSJ-Alhazred
Summary: Maestro, Maniac, and some new faces are hand picked by James Taggart for a revived project of Admiral Tolwyn's, but Maestro gets far more then he bargained for.
1. Belly of the Beast

"Problems Maestro

DISCLAIMER: I don't own or am profiting from Wing Commander or anything related, but this story happens to be mine.

Impresario

By Alhazred

madarab20@hotmail.com

"Problems Maestro?"

"None at all chief, just trying to get used to all the room again"

"Yeah, I don't think the rest of Confed R & D ever liked the idea of a capital ship with space," Coriolis chuckled. Maestro figured he'd head to see Anderson, who always had some idea of what was going on. The shuttle pilot hadn't even told him he was headed for the Midway, and he didn't have transfer orders. Someone else had the same idea.

"Mr. Garret!"

Spinning on his heal, Maestro snapped to attention and popped a salute to CAG Drake. She and Maniac had been lobbying in the senate for increased military readiness, last he'd heard. "Yes Ma'am!"

"Welcome back. But I should tell you that you're not really being transferred here."

Bells and whistles went off in Maestro's head. Something was up.

"The guest we have in the briefing room should be able to fill you in," she added, a frustrated tone in her voice. Something was being kept from her and she didn't like it. "You're to report as soon as you get your gear stowed back on that shuttle, Lieutenant."

"Yes Ma'am," saluting again, Maestro turned, adjusted the strap of his duffel bag, and headed off back for the launch deck.

"Lieutenant," the CAG suddenly called. He froze. "The bottle."

His face contorting while his back was still turned, Maestro pulled one of the more discreet zippers on his bag and pulled out his latest seizure of Alterian Brandy.

"The Cerberus CAG happens to be an old friend," Drake smiled as he handed it over. "I could guess what happened when something from his stash vanished."

With a teasing wave of the bottle in front of his face, Drake walked off.

---

"You know, I had to get used to war myself. Way back on the Claw when Tolwyn was commanding. Back then we never let anyone else see that it got to us…"

"I know what ya mean laddie, and here we are goin through it all over again."

"Yeah… I always thought the old geezer'd live forever."

"I hear ya. When I got word of it I put the report down and went on with everythin else on my desk for a few minutes before I realized what it said."

"So it _is _true," the Kilrathi sitting in the corner spoke up, "the Heart of the Tiger is dead?"

"Truer then we'd like to think, my furry friend," Taggart replied as the doors opened. "Ah, there ye are lad!"

Maestro couldn't help but pause and look around the room several times to make sure he'd gotten everything right. Maniac was sitting in a front row seat with a bottle on the floor and a half-empty shot glass in his hand, there was a Kilrathi sitting in the corner, and there was a familiar looking old man leaning on the CAG's podium. Maestro had met him at the party thrown in Sol for the Midway personnel instrumental in repelling the aliens from Kilrah.

"Senator Taggart?"

"The one & only, Maestro my boy. So, now that we're all here, I believe you and Maniac know each other, this is," he motioned to the Kilrathi, suddenly noticing the feline had fallen asleep. "Ahem!"

With a snort, the Kilrathi woke from his catnap.

"As I was saying, Major Marshal, Lieutenant Garret, this is Jeager nar Hhallas, related to a certain Kilrathi that used to be stationed on the TCS Victory."

"Great. Haven't we dealt with enough of that family for one lifetime," Maniac sighed, pouring another drink.

Maestro looked from Maniac to the Kilrathi and back again. "I'm missing a lot here, ain't I?"

"You'd rather not know," Jeager intoned. "I certainly wish I didn't."

"Well," Taggart jumped in, "now that we're all acquainted, I assume you all know who," he leaned over the main console and entered some commands, "this is?"

An image popped up on the main screen. It was a personnel profile, zoomed onto the photograph. The photo was an old man with long-turned gray hair and a scowl on his face. Maniac spit his drink out.

Maestro tilted his head to the side, studying the man. "Isn't that... Geoffrey Tolwyn?"

"Aye, that he is. You all know he's dead of course. Some of the… circumstances around that are a bit classified but we won't get into that. I'm sure everyone wants to know why we're here."

Taggart entered another command into the console. The mug shot of Tolwyn zoomed out into the upper left corner of the screen, making room for electronic schematics on a very large ship. The file was labeled "TCS Behemoth."

"Now Maniac should recognize this tub, but it's never been unclassified, meaning the rest of you can't talk about this with anyone who doesn't already know, and I mean it. This mother of a ship was a pet project of Admiral Tolwyn's for the last decade of the Galactic War. As far as he was concerned, it was Confed's last hope of winning. We were keeping it from the public, of course, but we were losing badly in the last stages."

"I do not understand," Jeager spoke up. "How can a single ship make a difference like that? It seems the eventual weapon that concluded the war was far more… concrete."

"Looks can be deceiving," Taggart brought up another animation. "Now I was never the expert, but Behemoth here was built to be a series of interconnecting superconductor… things that, well, to put it simply, will destroy a planet. When Tolwyn test fired it, it worked like a charm. Loki VI isn't _really _Loki VI, you know."

"So," Maestro started, "if Tolwyn could just… push a button and blow Kilrah from afar, why all that Temblor Bomb stuff?"

Jeager's eyes lit up. "Rhalga sent word that that thing was headed for Kilrah, didn't he?"

"Good guess, lad. Behemoth was ambushed and destroyed on the way. The Temblor Bomb was my own desperate attack project. But be that as it may, what matters is," he pointed to the Behemoth display, "that we've rebuilt her."

Maniac finally stood and came out of his funk, like he'd had a revelation. He laughed. "Oh wait, wait, this is so typical, we all had something to do with this thing in the first place. I flew escort, our friend here's father or… brother or whatever was Hobbes," he poured one more drink for the hell of it. "You know I _told _Maverick I coulda kept the cats off of it if he just stood aside, but he had to slow me down and look what happened."

"I feel so left out," Maestro feigned. "_I _didn't have anything to do with it."

"Well actually lad," Taggart corrected, bringing Tolwyn's picture back up. "You do. See him?"

Maestro glanced at Tolwyn again and shrugged. "Yeah…"

"That's your father."

Maniac spit his drink out again, this time going into a fit of laughter. Maestro laughed himself, thinking it was pretty funny.

"C'mon Senator…"

"I'm serious lad. And I got the DNA records ta prove it," he handed Maestro a data pad. "You, my friend, are Admiral Geoffrey Tolwyn's one and only son. The dates are a little iffy given his… last military act, but be that as it may, Tolwyn had vanished by the time you were born and your biological mother died in childbirth. The Garrets adopted ye, and the rest is history."

Maestro slowly deadpanned as he read through. When he went to sit down, he missed the chair and plopped down on the floor, but his eyes never came from the documentation. Rumors about Admiral Tolwyn had long circulated through Confed, and not only was the DNA test included in what Taggart had handed the pilot, but the classified confirmation of those rumors was there too.

"Jesus," he said, half to himself. "I never… I…"

"You never had a clue, laddie," Taggart jumped in, "The old bat asked me to track you down and tell ya when I thought the time was right. I must admit I'm surprised I actually did the guy a favor, but, well, you didn't ask to be born, and he didn't need to guilt trip me for it."

"Shit," maniac commented, sitting back down. "Tough break kid. I dunno what's scarier, your father or that the old fool not only got a woman in bed but still managed to keep the family going in the military…"

Maestro needed to think about something else. Fast. "So what _are _we doing here?"

"Well I'm glad ye asked that laddie," Taggart said. "Back to the Behemoth, see, for the last few years we've been piecing Tolwyn's research back together and I was just told last month that we've rebuilt the oversized peashooter. Without Tolwyn we haven't been able to modify the technology, the main cannon is still optimized for destroyed stationary targets… like planets. Now here's the thing. We're moving that big alien wormhole maker right back to Kilrah. The computers on it have a lot of information, including information on their own territories. They're planning another invasion, too, with or without the convenient entry point at Proxima."

Another command into the console, and a star map came up. "What we want to do is use their gate to go right to their main base of operations. They have no home world in the manner that we understand the concept, but a planet at the coordinates specified by the device, just outside of explored space on the Sol sector side, is the staging area for the assault against us. Behemoth goes in, planet is destroyed, and bugs are weakened so they can't invade. I've got all of you here because, yes, maniac was right, you've all had something to do with the original," he glanced at Maestro and Jeager, "one way or another. It covers my rear in terms of telling people highly sensitive information. And you're all good pilots; you should have no problems ensuring the insertion goes off smoothly. Being as this is somewhat unofficial, I can't force any of you to accept the assignment."

The three pondered the obvious hinted question. Maniac didn't need much encouragement. "Oh pick me pick me," he dumbly called out, waving his arm around. "I think Drake and I encouraged the Senate quite enough to step up military readiness, anyway. God, don't remind me of peace dividend supporters arguing every… single… point…"

"I'm in," Maestro added, only half paying attention. His eyes weren't seeing the bulkheads.

"I've never been one to turn down a good battle," Jeager concluded.

---

Maestro had found something in his bag halfway through the shuttle trip. An old style holo-recorder from the days of the Kilrathi war, slightly beat up, but in perfect working condition. He had a very strong feeling Taggart had either slipped it in or had someone do so, but the hunch of what it was made him shove into the deepest, darkest corner under his apparel while he wasn't alone.

"Okay now look guys, I know you all wanna get in there and kill a lot of bugs and everything but let's remember none of you compare to me…"

Maniac went on and on with his speeches. Maestro let him talk, remembering he wasn't the only one going through something emotional at the moment. Inside, Maniac was torn in half by Blair's death and his usual inferiority complex had changed from an amusing personality to his emotional release. But Maestro would have torn the voice box out of anyone else to have peace and quiet.

Fifteen minutes before the rendezvous point, Maniac fell asleep.

"Quarter for your thoughts, Terran?"

"Penny."

"Ah, apologies," Jeager responded. "Quarter for your pennies?"

Maestro laughed. "I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you."

But the Kilrathi would not be sidetracked. "My own father left me a legacy, you know."

"Really," Maestro was starting to think Taggart had picked them because they'd all been through emotional trauma and could relate. Why else would the Senator drop the bomb on him right there in five seconds flat?

"Yes, my father was the sole Kilrathi defector during the war, but his personality was created to hide his true self, and he betrayed the Terrans when he was reawakened as his true self."

"I remember that now," Maestro thought aloud. "History lessons at the academy and all. They never tell us the bad parts. The Behemoth, your father turning on Confed, but I remember learning about a defector."

The feline grew somber. "Mmm, a pity he couldn't let the morals he learned from his new personality influence the original."

Maestro was surprised. He didn't have the bad blood against the Kilrathi that war veterans did, but a lot of younger generation Kilrathi had it against Confed. "You think he made the wrong choice?"

"I think he dishonored his family. 'Hobbes' betrayed us because he disagreed with the Empire's motives. He switched sides for a reason, and then he turned right back around and stabbed everything he fought for in the back. I'd rather he was a scientist or one of your rock stars, and you can't begin to understand how insulting that would be in his time."

Before Maestro could answer, something caught the corner of his eye. He looked out the window and saw the jump point open, a massive, oblong ship starting to emerge. The records hadn't prepared him for the sight of the real thing. "Wow. There it is…"

He was truly awestruck, as was Jaeger as soon as he shifted his gaze. The Behemoth lived up to its name, being absolutely _huge _with most of its displacement owing to the barrel. The shuttle passed by the starboard side, creating an actual sense of mass nearby. What was more, the shiny new vessel, unlike the original, was complete with armor and defenses the original had lacked due to time constraints.

The Behemoth fully emerged from its jump, and at that exact moment, it struck Maestro that he was looking at Death itself. The completed conventional weapon system was enough to take care of any fighters and bombers that dared come close, and capital ships would be eaten alive by the sheer amount of gunnery on the monster. All of that served to keep the weapon in one piece so it could line up an entire planet in its sights and pull the trigger on a world. "Holy God…"

"Uh, huh, someone call," Maniac snorted awake, took one look out the window, and said, "oh that thing again…"

---

Though the main aspects of Behemoth were identical to the original, there had been some superficial improvements, a hanger bay and expanded living quarters included. The bay had a stock of Confed fighters, though there were no Piranhas, Tigersharks or Shrikes. All of them were original designs, not the Black variants carried by Cerberus.

The Lounge and briefing room were just as well equipped as Midway's. The eccentricities were obviously built with a smaller contingent of pilots in mind. Maniac received his first actual shock throughout the whole thing when he walked onto the bridge and found "Radio" Rollins, once a lowly comm. officer, in command. Taggart had been around.

Jeager went off to explore the ship, but Maestro found his quarters and settled down. The fact that he had his own quarters, with three rooms, nonetheless, was a welcome surprise. Even Midway wasn't large enough to break away from the war-era pilot barracks. Bunking with the rest of the squad was never something he objected to, but right _now, _the privacy was very, very welcome.

All that considered, he plunked the old holo-recorder into the middle of the table and grabbed a stiff drink before sitting down. He rubbed his eyes to stall another second, and finally switched it on. The two colors it projected, blue and light blue, quickly formed into a shape. A thin, old man whose hair was obviously long grayed despite the lack of color now stood on the small object, broken by holographic static. He wore a war-era Admiral's uniform, and despite the size, the name "Tolwyn" was readable on the nametag. He cleared his throat.

"Well then," Tolwyn began, almost nervously. "If you are seeing this, one of several things has happened. The most pessimistic possibility is that you've stolen this recorder and it does not belong to you. Or perhaps you're James Taggart, sneaking a peek after I've asked you to keep this and deliver it in a few years. I should hope not, because you'd never do so after listening. I'm surprised you're doing this at all. The ideal situation, of course, is that you are the one this message is intended for."

"Here here," Maestro said, raising his drink in mock toast. Tolwyn went on.

"Good ol' Taggart was supposed to have told you quite a bit before giving you this, but as I don't particularly trust him, I'm going to play it safe," he cleared his throat again. Maestro suddenly understood where the need to stall came from. "My name is Geoffrey Tolwyn, and I'm your father. Yes, I know that sounds a little Darth Vader-ish, and I know that they don't teach Star Wars in school, but please humor me. As hard as it is for either of us to accept, I'm your father, Maxwell. At least I hope your name is Maxwell, it's the name I wanted for you, a parent is allowed to name their child, correct? Of course, that doesn't mean they didn't heed to my wishes to make you male, centuries of civilization and we still find men more likely to serve in the military. I must apologize for predestining your fate, really, but I'm getting ahead of myself."

Maestro set his drink down and folded his arms on the table. As much as he didn't want to, he couldn't help giving his father his full attention.

"You see Maxwell, what Taggart doesn't know is that I maneuvered the Garrets to adopt you in my own discreet way, long before you were born. Well, I suppose money wasn't so subtle. They never knew it all came from me, of course. Your father the captain would have been appalled, hypocrite that he was, to know a pristine Admiral was responsible. I know all about the Garrets, you see. I know Diana Garret was always scared to death when her husband was home, and I know it's because Steven Garret is abusive to the point that you'll have joined the military to please him, to keep him off your back, and to get the hell away from him"

Maestro froze.

"Perhaps one day you can forgive me for putting you through that, though if you're anything like me, you won't. But you're not there for him anymore, are you? I don't think so. Maxwell, our family has served for many, many generations, and I felt… guilty that it was going to end with me. But it wasn't like I could just get married and settle down, you know. I let the war take away my time, not realizing how precious it was. The sad truth is that I never met your mother, I simply donated to a sperm bank and, well, you can figure it out. Perhaps you can find her eventually, though whoever she was, she was also hired with funds that, in the end, came from me. In any case, here you are. I have such faith in genetics, you see, that I _know_ joining to please Garret eats you, but that in the end you want to be here. I… hope that doesn't eat you more…"

Tolwyn's posture slumped, as if he were tired.

"I'm gone, but the Tolwyn family, if not the name, carries on with you as it always has. Still, Maxwell Tolwyn would have sounded nice, don't you think?"

With a smile from the long-dead man, the message ended and the holo-recorder shut off. Unable to think, Maestro dropped his head into his arms.

And he cried for a very long time.

---

NOTE: I'm going to break down and admit that, unfortunately, I never had the chance to play Wing Commander 4, and since it probably won't happen any time soon, I decided to go ahead and do this. I have a basic understanding of the WC4's main plot, but no details, so I apologize if there are inconsistencies.


	2. Sword of the Beast

FROM: 2nd Lt

_ _

_FROM: 2nd Lt. Lance Casey, TCS Cerberus_

_TO: 2nd Lt. Maxwell Garret, Classified_

_Re: _

_ _

_ _

_Maestro,_

_ _

_It's great to hear from ya, man. We were guessing where you'd been shipped off to a couple nights ago. There's nothing better to do, really, they haven't furnished the lounge in this tub yet. Stiletto and Spyder had a bet going for a rather large sum of money that that you got assigned another black ops deal. She promptly declared herself the winner when we couldn't even know what ship you're on. He put up quite a fight, but this _is _Stiletto we're talking about. Didn't last long, once she threatened him with death._

_ _

_Zero's been digging through his father's old research, trying to find anything else in Kilrathi history about the bugs. He's found a document or two about other Kilrathi scriptures that have to do with it, but nothing we haven't heard yet. We get copies of the reports that Commander Finley and Chief Coriolis file about their research into them, I gave them the forward we use to reach you, they said they didn't have it. You should find it interesting._

_ _

_The Captain hasn't gotten any new orders yet. No threat of more bug invasions, no nothing. Hear anything from your corner of the universe?_

_ _

_Senator Taggart mentioned in his last letter to me that now probably isn't the best time to talk with you, so hearing from you was a pleasant surprise. Anything you want to talk about?_

_ _

_ _

_---Casey_

_ _

---

Setting the pad down, Maestro chuckled at the thought of Stiletto facing down the much larger Spyder. Senator Taggart should have been right about his mood, but the fact was that he couldn't think of anything else to do, and friends, no matter how insane the problem, would always provide a good ear. Assuming he even wanted to tell anyone about his father, that is.

Checking the time, Maestro pulled on his flight suit and headed off. The Behemoth was approaching Kilrah, where Confederate scientists had moved the alien Stellar Accretion device. Large contingents of Confed forces were there by now, blockading the location in case any aliens came through from the target location. The location was simply chosen because the Kilrah system itself didn't have a large population anymore, most Kilrathi that were still there had been killed by the aliens and no one was in a hurry to resettle.

Captain Rollins was standing at the podium in the briefing room. Maestro had been the last to arrive. Manic and Jaeger seemed passive enough for the moment.

"Well pilots, now we can get down to business. Since you'll all be having the same missions you won't need to worry about details on your ICIS, I'll be giving it all to you."

The main screen switched from the spinning Confederation icon to a nav map, showing the Behemoth, Kilrah Prime, and the alien Stellar-Accretion device. "Intel is setting up the alien device to start the wormhole up from our own power source that we can shut off any time. It's nothing small, mind you; the thing has to open big enough for us to get through, after all. Despite the large-scale implications of this operation, it's really quite simple. We go in, fire the Behemoth at this planet, and get the hell out."

The screen showed an old war-era style animation of the Behemoth approaching a planet and destroying it, the crude sphere wire frame shattering into tiny triangles upon the blast's impact.

"Now, according to the computers on their wormhole generator, the aliens are staging a conventional assault against us from the far side of Confed space. If all goes well, the shockwave from our shot at the planet will take out their entire fleet and set them back quite a bit. Your job is to provide a more surgical cover for us. If things get hot, pull back to the ship and we'll return the favor with our anti-fighter defenses. Dismissed."

Rollins stepped down and left the briefing room, leaving the pilots to stand and head for the flight deck. A wing of Panthers had been prepped for launch, and no one wasted time getting into the cockpit.

"Does anyone else think," Jeager commed, once they were in flight alongside Behemoth, "that this is a little… pointless?"

"That three pilots are flying escort for flying Death? Yeah, kinda," Maestro answered, "but that's assuming everything goes as planned. What if a series of this thing's turrets fail? What if there's an out-of-the-way target out of her gun range?"

"Ahhh, face it kid," Maniac added, "we're Gophers. Go fer this, go fer that, not the first time, won't be the last. Just make sure ya let the Maniac chew up the really good targets."

"Same old Maniac," Captain Rollins suddenly chimed in from the bridge of the Behemoth, rolling his eyes. Maestro and Jeager found it quite funny.

"Tch, same old Radio Head," Maniac rebutted.

Rollins came back on, waving his fingers in mock-offense. "Oooooooo harsh!"

---

On the far side of Sol Sector, a lush, green planet sat. Fighters made with black and green organic hulls flew in formation, and an installation hung in orbit. They weren't expecting a sudden energy surge to show up on scanners a slight distance away, with coordinates still in visual range. They didn't expect six towers made of the same technology to push out through a tiny hole and pull apart, making the gate large beyond anything they would normally deem necessary.

They didn't expect Death itself to pour forth, obscuring the stars in a veil of Confederation blues and grays.

But every single member of Behemoth's crew, from the three pilots to the enlisted man paying attention on a monitor, found something they expected less then the enemy had anticipated their arrival.

"Uhhhhh," Maestro broke the silence. "Is it me, or is there… no fleet here?"

"It's not just you," Rollins exclaimed, Behemoth's bridge clearly frantic. "Give us a minute, we're sending a message to Confed back through the gate."

Indeed, the planet was nothing like it should have been. A comm. relay station sat in orbit, but the only warships were a mass of fighters.

But no fleet. Not a single alien capital ship.

"Hey, heads up sleepyheads," Maniac intoned, "we've got incoming!"

A slew of alien fighters and bombers were swarming toward the Confederation ships from all sides. Even in Behemoth's face, the bugs were not deterred, not intimidated, and not afraid.

"Maniac, take your wing and kill the bombers on our starboard side, our defenses will handle their escort fighters as soon as they're in range."

Glancing to his right, Maniac suddenly understood why the bombers needed to be killed quickly; they were close. Despite Behemoth's defenses and size, skilled bomber pilots could evade gunfire long enough to launch their payloads and cause significant damage. Even a planet killer could be damaged.

"Crap, kill 'em all, guys!"

Jeager was the first to hit something, shooting down a torpedo the closest bomber managed to fire. He blasted at the Manta that fired it with his Ion guns before destroying it with an Artemis IR missile. "Hah, see how a Kilrathi fights, insects!"

"And the Maniac scores," that same pilot shouted as he sent a Manta tumbling into one of it's Moray escorts, destroying them both.

Maestro couldn't help but laugh as his own missile trailed a bomber trying to flail around Behemoth's topside, only to take the hit and explode. "Haven't you woken up yet, Maniac?"

"Kid, when I wake up, the little red dots on your scanner'll vanish so fast you won't even be able to lock a target."

"Now Maniac," Maestro answered, pumping his full guns into another Manta, "didn't they teach you in school that drugs bad? Especially when flying, I mean, those dots may be different colors altogether!"

Jeager sighed; obviously faking the sound, ensuring it was loud enough for all to hear. "Children."

With that, the feline destroyed the last Manta bomber that had born down on the Behemoth. The ship itself had torn the Moray escorts to ribbons; the last of them had exploded just as the bomber had gone down.

"Behemoth to HQ," Rollins broadcasted, "we're picking up a communications broadcast from the alien relay station, we're trying to figure out where they're sending, maybe we can find this fleet after… what the hell, it's broadcasting toward us!_"_

_ _

"That is a negative, Behemoth," the faceless burst transmission came back. "It's coming toward _us! _They're transmitting security override codes through the gate and into the control center, it's starting to close and we can't stop it! Reverse course and return at once!"

But the portal was already closing. Rollins blinked into his comm. window, clearly seeing the order an impossible one to follow. "HQ, I hate to tell you this, but the wormhole is already smaller then we are!"

"…very well, Behemoth, stand by," this time, the transmission was riddled with static. The gate's closure was starting to interfere with the transmissions. "We're send--- - --ta packe- -ith the alien star chart-, --u can find your --- --ck t- Confed spa--. Your orders are also…"

But the gate closed, the feedback destroying the generator towers and producing a shockwave that sent the fighters tumbling around. It even seemed like Behemoth itself shuddered under the aftereffect of the gate's forced closure.

"Well now I know what they mean when they say Military Intelligence is an oxymoron," Maestro stated.

"You know, we're part of that at the moment," Maniac reminded him.

"I think that was his point," Jeager laughed.

"Well then," Maniac said, realizing he'd been zinged, "hey Behemoth, think we can landing clearance?"

"Not a chance Major," Rollins answered, surprising the three pilots. "I'd advise you to stand clear, we're about ten seconds away from turning that relay station into dust with a three percent blast from the cannon."

"Three percent? Are you sure that'll," Maestro didn't finish his sentence, as the Behemoth fired while he was talking. The low amount of power provided almost no recoil to the massive ship, but the red beam of energy it shot out was nothing to laugh at. To the human eye, the shot was as large as a full on blast would have been, but it was much weaker.

Seconds before the comm. station could transmit news of the Confederation insurgency, the red light struck it and blew the alien construct out of existence, sending debris into the planet's atmosphere.

"That was _three _percent power," Jeager roared, shocked at actually _seeing _the weapon, the beam's incredible range and the mere fraction of its possible destructive force totaling an installation in a nanosecond. For what it worth, the beam fizzled out when it reached the planet, not strong enough to effect it in any way.

"Okay, _now _you have landing clearance. It'll take us a few minutes to sort out our sensor data and plot a course anyway."

---

"Our first mission out and we're stranded in some weird bug sector, dozens of systems away from home," Maestro lamented, logging off of the pilot records. He briefly tossed his hands up and with a total lack of audible sarcasm, shouted "terrific!"

"It ain't so bad kid," Maniac responded. "Like anything is gonna put up a fight against this thing?"

"Worry is not in your vocabulary, is it Maniac?"

"Hah," he answered the Kilrathi, a sudden fatigue evident in his voice, "when you worry, you're not flyin."

Jeager's gaze followed Maniac to the Decontam Chute. "Is it me or does he seem a bit… on edge?"

"He took it hard when Blair died," Maestro answered, remembering the ludicrous amount of alcohol Maniac had imbibed at the victory celebration on the Midway, but his ghosts had kept haunting him. "Flying is like a drug for him. Of course, when you're his age, and you've seen everything, what's more thrilling then tumbling around big alien bug things in the dead of space trying to fry 'em?"

"Fighting them hand to hand," Jeager waved his paw around, showing off his claws.

"Thanks, I'll stick to fighter combat, we frail little humans wouldn't stand much of a chance one on one to those things. Be that as it may," he continued as they entered the Decontam chute, "unlike Maniac, I am perfectly capable of drowning my sorrows in alcohol. Care to join me?"

"Hmmm, and I was going to challenge you to a fight in the simulator. I suppose we could get drunk first, it would make it far more interesting."

"I couldn't agree more."

---

"Let me get this straight," Maniac began, pointing to the star map and the group of unexplored systems. "HQ wants us… despite the fact that Sol Sector is not far away at all, to take some kind of wacko long way around and re-enter explored space from the Border Worlds?"

"That's the gist of it," Rollins answered, spinning around in the chair, reading over his orders on the data pad while Maniac studied the star chart. Behemoth was only a few systems away from the stellar-west end of the Confederation, and going back through the Union of Border Worlds meant traveling through a horde of unexplored systems and traveling just outside the perimeter of explored space.

"They deduced, in the five seconds we had contact before the wormhole closed," Rollins continued, "that the alien fleet is heading in that direction. We're going to follow the mass of engine byproduct that a fleet that large is leaving behind. So far, it looks like they're heading where we think they are, but this is only one system out of a couple dozen at the moment."

Maniac sat down in one of the briefing seats. "Assuming Intel is right, what's at the Border Worlds? What are they gonna do, take out a wing of Border World fighters here, a Confed cap ship there, make sure there are no witnesses, both think the other is attacking? Are we massing a fleet at the fringe?"

Rollins laughed and kicked off the floor, sending his chair into a full-on spin. It served to tell Maniac that he was going to question the sanity of what he was about to be told, and that Rollins was still doing so. "The UBW doesn't know about the aliens."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I said, the Union of Border Worlds," Rollins changed the nav map to zoom in on the cluster of systems that made the Union, "doesn't know about the aliens."

"How the Hell can they not," Maniac shouted. "The Bugs trashed everything around Kilrah, they were in _Proxima _for cryin out loud, Confed was holding public assemblies to celebrate Midway's victory!"

"All of which was, in the end, restricted broadcast, everyone who has anything to do with it directly, the Midway and Cerberus crew, us, you name is, it watched _very _closely and will get the Intel warning of 'talk and you're dead' if it looks they're going anywhere _near _the Border Worlds."

"Ach, this is absurd!"

Maniac stood so he could pace around and burn off the energy this revelation had given him. "Let me guess, they want us to catch up to the fleet and stop them?"

"Yep."

"Typical."

"Oh it gets better," Rollins answered. "Firing the Behemoth led us to all sorts of bugs and glitches that one normally finds on a shakedown cruise. Not only did we blow a superconductor, at only a fraction of power mind you, but we fried a ton of power relays and we haven't got weapons on the entire starboard side."

"And you're still taking us into battle," Maniac confirmed.

"Yep."

"You're going to take on an entire fleet with this thing," the pilot went over, "this thing that is very very large, with no weapons to one side, nothing to fight other ships to one side, three pilots to guard said entire side, no planet killer…"

"I didn't say the cannon wouldn't be fixed by then," Rollins interrupted, obviously feigning for a bright note. "In fact, it probably will be. I plan on going with the original plan, we'll just need to lure them to a planet."

Sighing, Maniac sat down again, this time hard. "Oh, is that all? I thought it'd be hard. Well, I'd better go tell the others and give them their own strokes."

"Break it to them gently, Major," Rollins snapped off a salute. Maniac returned it, and left.

---

"Damn, simulated space gets some nice color when you've had a few drinks," Maestro quipped, spinning his simulated fighter around Jeager's Vampire. He was enjoying his buzz.

"Speak for yourself, Kilrathi do not get intoxicated as quickly as Terrans do."

"_Now _ya tell me."

Squeezing the trigger, Maestro peppered his feline opponent with gunfire, but his aim was off and Jaeger maneuvered away with miner shield damage. Seconds later, a missile flew into Maestro's view and struck his target dead on, followed by Tachyon fire. Caught off guard, Jeager exploded in seconds.

"I do believe that's a kill for the Maniac!"

"Someone's a little too happy," Maestro commed. "Let's see of we can fix that!"

Maniac pivoted his newly arrived Panther around as soon as Maestro let his FOF missile loose, dropping a slew of decoys. Maestro cut back on the throttle to keep Maniac in his sites while he turned to keep up, and blasted him with his Excalibur's Ion guns. Jeager re-spawned into the fight.

"Ha! Tremble hairless one," he cackled, looking for revenge. Maniac took evasive action; avoiding the crossfire his two opponents were producing. Another blast from Maestro's guns and Maniac's shields fell.

But as good as they were, Maniac was much, much better. When Maestro launched another missile, Maniac swung up, spun around, went into auto-slide, and dropped a decoy that flew over Jeager. The missile took the decoy and slammed the new Vampire right on the bow, sending it spinning.

Maestro ended up with Maniac on his tail, his shields quickly destroyed a second later and a missile up his tail pipe after that.

Maniac shut the simulator down. "You guys are gonna love this."

---

After a month, everyone from Rollins to Maniac to the cooks started to worry that the alien fleet was too far ahead of the Behemoth for them to catch up. The Behemoth wasn't far from the fringe of explored space now, and there were systems they hadn't been through, but the engines trails held strong. The main cannon was repaired, but the conventional weapon grid wasn't going to get fixed without some dry dock time.

In a short time, however, Maniac flew Maestro and Jeager right at the alien fleet while investigating an anomalous reading. The fleet was massive, about three-fourths as large as the entire Confederation space force, made of several types of every alien ship class. The Ship Killers led the way, followed by the Tiamat dreadnaughts, with the carriers in the middle and the smaller ships mixed together, bringing up the rear.

They were flying past the dayside of a nearby planet; probably freak coincidence, as they weren't showing any interest in it despite the proximity.

"All right Maniac, bring your people back before you're spotted," Rollins ordered.

"Hey, before we do that," Maestro jumped in, "shouldn't we try to scout them or something? Get an exact composition?"

Quick on the answer, Rollins commed, "won't be needed, if what I have planned works. You'll be escorting an SWACS vessel back to the planet once you get here. The SWACS will broadcast phony scanner information and make it look like there's a very large Confed ship on the day-side of the planet, just out of the radar shadow."

Jeager decided to be the pessimist. The reason for making the aliens think they were about to be ambushed wasn't hard to comprehend. "Captain, what happens if the aliens do not take the bait?"

"Hell if I know," Rollins shrugged. "But let's hope it won't come to that."

"Yes, lets," Maniac agreed. "If they don't we're gonna be guarding our tub's poor little defenseless side against hordes of aliens."

This time, Rollins laughed. "Maniac, I'm paranoid, not stupid. You should thank me, I'm surprised you've survived the conflict this long without being out flown by every bug around."

"Hey, who do I look like, Maverick?

"More like Admiral Tolwyn," Jeager chuckled. "No offense, Maestro."

"None taken," the Terran answered. "You know he kinda does…"

"What did I do to deserve this?"

From Rollins, "I wouldn't know, Maniac, I'm just a Radio Head."

---

"Lookout 1 to Behemoth, I think it's working!"

"Roger that Lookout 1," Rollins commed to the SWACS, "we see it too. Stay there for a little longer, I'll advise you of when to bug out."

"Roger that, Behemoth. Holding position."

"It worked, I can't believe it, but it worked."

Fixated on the main viewer, Rollins shut his eyes tightly for a moment to make sure he wasn't seeing things. The tactical display clearly showed the triplet of fighters and the SWACS broadcasting the insanely large Confederation reading. As he'd hoped, the aliens thought that it was either the Behemoth or a fleet hiding behind the planet where their scanners wouldn't reach from the exact opposite side once the planet was exactly between the two. The fleet was looping around the planet, ready to surprise their newfound and very large Confederation target from behind.

"They're splitting off to surround them, we'll have to make sure our aim is perfect," he thought aloud, meaning for the primary gunner to hear. The man nodded his head in acknowledgment.

"That's perfect," he remarked of the display, or rather, the positions of every ship on the display. The aliens were even going in a low orbit to mask themselves, but the SWACS saw them easily.

Sitting down in his chair, Rollins switched the screen to forward view, setting the tactical for his personal console. After that, he pressed a comm. key. "Fighters, escort the SWACS away from the planet. If the aliens spot you, make sure the SWACS survives, they're going to keep broadcasting the signal to confuse the fleet that's not in visual range."

"Roger that, Behemoth," Maniac sent back.

In seconds, the four small white dots began moving away from the planet, in the relative direction of the system's star. The aliens were almost now in a semi-circle around the planet. As huge as the fleet was, any space faring force was dwarfed by the size of planets, which made it all the more possible to destroy the fleet by targeting the ball of rock

And Rollins wasn't sorry about it. From what the gun cameras on the fighters had seen, the world was very bleak. Its small oceans were hideously polluted. The landmasses were a sulfur-yellow. It wouldn't have surprised him if the aliens choose to pass the night side because they didn't want to see it. Shattering the dismal place would be a favor to the universe.

"Helm, take us in."

The Behemoth's jump drives engaged, taking advantage of the intra-system anti-graviton jump point nearby. The planet killer was about forty-five degrees around the planet from the fighters and SWACS when it emerged.

But as soon as Rollins could see the world, he didn't care, standing and approaching the screen, believing the site before him even less then the tactical display from earlier. And he didn't care about the alien fleet around it; now probably realizing they'd been lured into a trap, hopefully not knowing the true danger they were in.

Rollins didn't care because from Behemoth's position, unlike the fighters,' he could see the terminator and the world's night side. A night side that was riddled with what looked like the lights and flashes of population centers. Some white, others yellow, none of it looking natural.

"Holy mother of God," he muttered, finally regaining his composure. "Short-range scan, I want to know what's on that that planet, right now!"

"Aye sir," the sensor tech replied, getting to work. She didn't take long to get results; the short-range scanners simply gave more detail that she had to relay. To her credit, she kept her own shock out of her voice. "That planet's supporting an industrial society. I can't be certain, but I don't think they've developed space travel. Population looks like 3 billion, I would guess."

He'd hoped it wouldn't be what it looked like, but it was. And he decided on a course of action without considering the consequences, knowing it was right and not wanting to be swayed.

"Did we emerge on target," he asked.

Disappointed, the gunner replied, "aye sir, for what it's worth."

"Stand down from your post, Lieutenant."

"Sir, you don't have to worry, I won't," but Rollins stopped him.

"If I thought your trigger finger might slip, I'd tell you to disarm the damn thing. Now stand down."

The crewman complied, standing at attention next to his console. He couldn't help but look over when Rollins stepped up to the station, placed his hand on the DNA scanner that only he and anyone that manned the station were cleared for, and began entering final bits of information.

"Sir… what are you doing?"

"I'm firing the Behemoth, Lieutenant."

At the time, it was the most casual thing the bridge crew had ever heard spoken. But they didn't get the chance to protest before the lights turned blue and a unique alarm klaxon sounded. No other ship had this particular alert, but it told everyone aboard the Behemoth to brace themselves, because the engines had just cut out to let the main cannon's recoil push the ship back unimpeded rather then fighting the propulsion and compressing the hull.

And then it fired, the same bolt of red that trashed the alien communications station at first sight, but this time, the ship lunged backward from the massive amount of energy it expelled, the effects felt by the entire crew. This time, the beam wasn't obstructed by an alien construct, and it wasn't so weak that the planet's atmosphere acted as an impenetrable shield.

This time, the beam vaporized a portion of the atmosphere as it passed through. A large city disintegrated on impact and the planet was seared open. The deadly energy continued and impaled the planet at its heart, shattering the core. From the center, the energy lanced through the mass, a webbing crack tearing the world apart from inside until the matter couldn't support the energy being fed into it anymore.

Debris scattered in every direction with the shockwave as the planet truly died, exploding in a mix of rock, dust, and magma. The blast took out every single capital ship that made up the alien fleet. Dreadnaughts, Ship Killers, everything was torn apart as if it were paper. 

The smaller fighters had a much better survival rate as they provided less mass for the shockwave to strike, but the survivors were either thrown into each other or shattered into fragments by fragments of what was once a planet. Three Terran Confederation fighters and an SWACS flew away from it all, the paints on their sterns singed beyond color.

And Rollins couldn't tell if his bridge crew was looking at him or at the screen, because he was looking at the latter as he backed into the bulkhead, watching as the debris field cooled, the last remnants of an entire civilization that he had destroyed to demolish the enemy. Now that it was done, he couldn't stop the actual horror that hit him.

He couldn't even breathe.

---

NOTE: Re-reading this, I almost deleted the parts about the planet being populated. In truth, the idea came to me because I didn't want it to be boring, pull trigger, kill planet, job done, nice and shiny, and this certainly adds a black streak to the good guys, as it should be, since the universe isn't perfect. But then I thought, would ROLLINS do that? Quite frankly after considering it…. I'm still not sure, but I went with it. I'm not going to give the reasoning away here, though… it's angst time for Rollins, he'll explain it just fine I think.

Thanks to Cloud Strife, guru of planetary destruction, for help with the planet killing. And a belated thanks to both he and Negative Creep for assuring me that I wrote a good Malcolm McDowell in chapter 1.


	3. Heart of the Beast

"This is probably a false alarm pilots, but since we blew the alien fleet," Rollins explained, "we're still getting a feint re

Yes, this features an utterly shameless rip-off of Star Trek medical technology and an X-Men ref. Please don't sue. This is a little shorter then normal, but it works.

---

"This is probably a false alarm pilots, but since we blew the alien fleet," Rollins explained, "we're still getting a feint reading that looks like engine residue, but it's so small that it could very well be something else. Still, it might be a scouting ship that went ahead of the main fleet and is totally unaware of the others' destruction. The Behemoth is going to take a detour to check this out, since a single ship big enough to leave a trace is too big for three bombers with no fighter escort. Your objective is to protect our starboard side while we come up along this thing, bear our port side, and engage. That's it, dismissed."

No one commented on the fact that Rollins looked absolutely horrible. If any of them had to guess, they'd say he wasn't getting much sleep. Maestro and Jeager had been floored when they found out they'd witnessed a populated planet being destroyed. Maniac, whether he realized it or not, had seen enough death in his life that unless it would go on the Kill board, he didn't pay much attention to it anymore. 

"Ahhh… nothing like a nice quiet patrol."

"Speak for yourself kid," Maniac countered as the pilots took off, "I'm workin' my kill record up to 2500 here. Bring it on!"

"What _is _your kill record, anyway," Jeager asked.

"Two thousand two hundred ninety; read it and weep!"

"Weeping will not bring my own score up," Jeager replied, far too seriously to not be joking. "I will, however, bet you a month's salary that I acquire more kills on this sortie then you do."

Maniac laughed. "Hah, your wallet has a death wish! You're on, kitty!"

"Now children, this is serious," Rollins intoned. "We're short range scan range of our little reading, it looks like a carrier… wait, we just got lock, it's defiantly a carrier. And shit, there are _definitely _incoming fighters, they saw us first!"

"Say no more Behemoth, breaking to engage."

Quick Moray fighters came first, and the three Confederation fighters promptly reversed course and brought them right to Behemoth's port side, letting the ship let loose. A wing of Devil Rays came next, with pilots skilled enough to evade turret fire, making them perfect candidates for the fighters.

"Great, two right in my sites and one of 'em comes up on my tail, such wasted opportunity," lamented Maniac as he peeled off, circling around his pursuer instead. The Devil Ray didn't last long. Jeager and Maestro flanked the two fighters Maniac had abandoned and chased them to flatten themselves right into Behemoth's phase shields.

No sooner had the flames died them large bolts of purple soared by the fighters and raked across the hull, knocking off turrets and dispersing past the shields to tear open spots of hull.

"It's just one thing after another," Maestro commented. "Those Stingrays have got to go before they start making holes in the weapons grid!"

"Try to look urgent, pilots," Rollins ordered, "they're hitting the starboard side, don't give them reason to go to port."

With that, the fighters raced ahead of Behemoth once more and right into the waiting alien fighter/bombers.

"Get them to stop firing first, guys," Maniac advised, popping one with a missile that forced the other two fighters to fly apart. He went after more joined groups instead of pursuing them. In a short time, the Stingrays were flying in every direction, trying to evade fire long enough to link up. A group came close, but a missile from Maestro knocked one into the other two as it exploded and they all went up in green flames.

Maestro couldn't resist. "We're gonna miss you, Bug!"

The carrier was close enough to see in a short amount of time, and Behemoth changed course to come up along side.

"Pilots, we're launching cap-ship missiles to soften 'er up for our guns. If you can make sure at least one gets through, this'll go a lot faster."

"I hate forming up with missiles," Maniac commented as they pulled up alongside the projectiles. "Here they come again!"

A Devil Ray led a pack of Mantas in, letting a missile off. Maniac threw his power to forward shields and took the missile so his charge wouldn't get blown, but blasts from the Devil Ray's guns whipped past him and tore the Confed projectile apart. A Manta rushed in, eager for a fight, but Jeager knocked him off quickly.

Two more converged on a missile, and Jeager destroyed both of them, but not before they could destroy their target. Maestro banked around the missile he was near, annoying the Devil Ray's pilot to pursue him instead of completing its objective.

"Come on bug, you couldn't the broadside of the Behemoth," Maestro shouted, maneuvering around some of his pursuer's shots and taking some, trying to seem like he wasn't good enough to get away if he wanted to. The Devil Ray stayed on him, and although the Mantas slipped past Maniac and Jeager to intercept the missile bringing up the rear, the Devil Ray had let the other one slam into the carrier.

"Direct hit," Rollins shouted, "I think we nailed her phase shield emitters too! Break off pilots, we're opening fire."

Tachyon and laser cannons flared to life across Behemoth's port side, shooting bolts of red and yellow into the carrier's bioorganic hull, obliterating a squadron of fighters that tried to launch.

Jeager looped his Vampire around a sloppy Manta and blew it away before Maniac could. "Better a gift for Sivar then your kill count Maniac!"

"I got yer Sivar riiiight here kitty!"

Maniac destroyed one of the last Stingrays as it tried to form up, and tracker missiles from Jeager destroyed the other two.

Maestro still had the Devil Ray behind him. He banked to the side and cut his speed, but his adversary was experienced enough to stay behind him. Maestro shot ahead on afterburned and looped around to make a strafing run, but the Devil Ray dodged to the side and turned to his rear when he shot by.

"Whoo, a challenging bug!"

He ate his words when the missile warning went off and didn't go away from three decoys and hard evasive action. The Vampire shook violently as the projectile hit; powerful enough to tear away shields and armor to damage systems. The warning went off again. Again, the missile didn't fall for the decoys and struck.

Maestro could feel the explosions working up his fighter, and knew his ship was doomed before the damage reader flashed "CORE: 100%."

"You little alien prick! Ejecting!"

The Devil Ray wasn't done as Maniac and Jeager rushed to finish what Maestro started. They were too far away to reach it before the craft suddenly came to a complete stop.

"Oh shit," Maestro frantically commed, "Hey… hey guys?! A little help here! Guys!"

His pod rattled as the Devil Ray's tractor beam pulled and locked it into clamps. The alien craft flew away from Maniac and Jeager, starting to outrun them.

But Behemoth's guns were finishing their job, and the alien carrier's jump core went critical. The ship exploded, sending out a powerful shockwave that totally reversed the Devil Ray's direction and sent it flying back, the abrupt change of motion damaging it severely. Maniac and Jeager were too far away to feel the harder effects of the carrier exploding, but the Devil Way was heading straight for them, tumbling end over end. Jeager tried to roll away, but the alien craft clipped him on the wing and bounced toward the Behemoth as the Kilrathi spun around, riding out the sudden wave of inertia until his thrusters fought it back.

A blue light shot out from Behemoth's docking bay and grabbed the damaged alien craft.

"Gotcha buggie," Rollins commented. "Maestro, if you haven't fainted, we're reeling you in."

---

Maestro was wobbly when he walked out of his pod, the Devil Ray on its side in the docking bay to give room for his hatch to pop off. Blood poured from his head, the result of far too much turbulence when his captor went tumbling. Jeager caught him when he finally took one step too many and collapsed. Maniac slung his arm around his shoulders; Jeager was too tall to help him walk without actually carrying him.

"I hate concussions," he gurgled, fighting back the nausea.

Marines were about to pop the canopy on the Devil Ray as the pilots dragged their comrade toward the lift. The surface looked like any other canopy, except for its pitch-black color. It showed no signs of heavy damage and scanners couldn't find hull breaches in the cockpit, so the Nephilim contained within was more then likely alive.

And it had been waiting for the humans to make the first move, because as soon as the canopy swung open, a long insectoid arm lashed out and knocked two marines off of the fighter. Another strike; the last one that had climbed up was on the floor. The alien jumped out and landed on the deck, stretching out from its balled up flying position to its full height. It roared just before the marines opened fire, and leapt over their heads before the bolts of green could hit.

The marines spun around just as fast, but the insect was expecting that as it landed and was quite prepared to keep leaping around, playing cat and mouse.

And then a roaring Kilrathi leapt onto its back before it could stand, wrapped his arms around the bug's carapace, and clawed. Jeager's claws were tipped with a Kilrathi metal to make them even sharper, and they tore through the alien's self-grown armor like butter.

The creature shrieked, reached behind, and flung the feline into a crate of cargo boxes, prompting the marines to blast it with their pulse guns.

The alien jumped again, behind the boxes it had thrown Jeager into, but the Kilrathi was already on his feet and promptly leapt into the bug with a roar, smashing them both through the crates again. Had the quartermaster been on the deck, he would have promptly written off whatever they were throwing each other into as 'destroyed.'

The alien ended up on top with a mandible poised to strike, but with the bug's armor compromised, Jeager lifted a paw and struck deep into the much larger creature's body with his natural weapons, not stopping at his fingertips and shoving so his claws made was for his paw, and then his forearm to actually impale the thing at its frail point.

The bug screeched again, but it died out as the creature did. Jeager kicked the corpse off and grinned like an idiot, admiring the black ichor that coated his fur. He'd just made the first hand-to-hand kill over one of the aliens.

The quiet getting their attention, Maniac and Maestro peeked out from around the door off of the flight deck.

"Where did _you _go," Jeager laughed, flinging a glob of the alien blood from his paw in their direction. It hit Maniac squarely in the eye. In his current state, Maestro thought it was absolutely hysterical and laughed as Maniac danced around, rubbing at the goo. He hobbled off to the Decontam Chute, intent on heading for the infirmary.

One of the marines suddenly yelled, "Hey! There's a live one!"

All of them, Maniac with a generic sidearm from a security station included, climbed onto the fighter and forced the canopy open all of the way. A second alien was behind the pilot's seating apparatus, but it was banged up and unconscious, probably from the same turbulence that had injured Maestro.

---

"No way in Hell Doctor, that thing is not moving so much as a centimeter from the brig. If you want to treat it, armed guards are going in with you. That's that."

"No guards in the cell."

"Doctor…"

"Captain Rollins, I've just performed a monthly physical on you and gotten extremely poor results. By your own admission, you have not slept or eaten in five days and you're borderline dehydrated. I have absolutely no qualms about relieving you of duty, which is why I waited until afterward to ask this."

"Doctor Xavier, are you blackmailing me?"

She smiled. "Why Captain, I'm a doctor, not a intelligence operative."

That prompted Rollins to smile. "On this ship, Doctor, yes, you are."

"I get the feeling I've just been zinged," Xavier replied, giving him a cross look. Rollins grinned triumphantly. "Therefore, Captain, I order you to get some sleep immediately, or I'll pump so much Methyline into you you'll be out for a week."

"Well you might as well do it now, doc," he dared, shrugging his officer's coat on, but he sat back down. "I try, if you want to believe it, I never thought sleep was something that would ever be easier said then done."

She stared at him for a second. "I have a feeling I'm missing something here, Captain."

"How can you _not _have heard," he asked, deadly serious, mouth agape. "Half the crew's been looking at me like I'm Death incarnate, the other half just doesn't show it," he yammered.

"I'm usually holed up in here researching out alien friends' biology, which is why I'm eager to get at the live one. And maybe if you got some sleep, you'd look like a normal human being," she scolded.

"Doctor, six days ago," he began, his tired eyes turning ice cold as he looked into hers, "I had a choice. Stop an alien fleet," he picked up a tool from her equipment tray, "by destroying a planet, or let them invade Confederation space."

He picked up another tool, and weighed them both in his hands. "Except to save all those Confederation lives, the alien fleet had to be destroyed," he raised the first tool up higher, "by shooting a planet with this thing and catching them in the shockwave. Even got them in orbit around them easily enough. All's going well. Then we jump in and bam! Planet's populated."

He raised "Confed" and lowered the "fleet" this time. "Not such an easy choice anymore, is it? Now Doctor, I want you to think very hard," he gripped them both tightly in his fists, "and take one guess at what choice I made. And for the record, yes, I think I made the right choice."

"I think I can guess," Xavier answered, not showing any effect this revelation brought to her. It helped Rollins keep whatever strength he had left, but in reality she really had no idea what to say. He wasn't even looking at her anymore; his eyes were seeing something besides the Infirmary.

"I see that planet every time I close my eyes," he went on, his face falling into his hands, his fingers massaging his temples, "I hear them scream whenever the room's quiet."

With Rollins on the edge of tears, Dr. Xavier realized that she was the first person he's actually talked about it with. She was no psychiatrist, though, and that was what he needed.

Badly.

But that didn't mean she couldn't do anything. Quickly, she grabbed a hypo-spray from the nearby cabinet and checked the contents to make sure it was what she thought it was, pressed it into his neck, and clicked the trigger.

He bolted upright as the chemicals rushed into his bloodstream, but all at once he was starting to wobble. He didn't need ask what kind of drug it was when he felt his eyes become heavy. "Methyline?"

"Nah, Triclanocine," she answered. "Not as fast, but you won't dream."

With that, she nudged him as he passed out so his head fell on the bed's pillow. After the awkward act of pulling his legs up onto the cushion, she glanced at Maestro to make sure he was still in dreamland and that his bleeding had stopped under the bandage. With that, she went off to inform the bridge that the Captain would be out of commission for a bit.

---

"Maniac, I'm still waiting for my 400 credits."

"Dream on cat! You got that last one cause your target crashed into it!"

"It counts on the kill board, therefore it counts on a bet," Jeager retorted. Maestro looked back and forth between the two for a while, highly amused at the exchange. Eventually, he looked at his watch and stood.

"Later guys, I'm turning in early tonight. Need sleep."

They didn't even hear him. He found that even funnier.

Having one thing left to do, Maestro didn't quite hit the sack when he walked into his quarters. After replacing the bandage on his forehead, he sat down with a pad and finally managed to type out a response to Casey on the Cerberus.

From: Lieutenant Maxwell Garret, TCS Classified 

_To: Lieutenant Lance Casey, TSC Cerberus_

Re: Holy Hell man… 

_Case,_

_You wouldn't believe the shit that's been goin on here. I wish I could tell you all the details, this place has been so whacked it isn't funny. Our captain is on the edge of a nervous breakdown, half the ship's weapons grid was offline AND we went bug hunting, we've got a live bug in the brig, and the bastard's copilot tried to grab my escape pod and I ended up with a freakin' concussion when the Devil Ray went spinning around from an explosion._

_I need to remember to breath here. I still have a very hilarious mental picture of our babe Stiletto facing down Spyder. Speaking of everyone, could you send me their receiver codes so I can forward to all of ya? All I have is yours, obviously. And did anyone ever figure out why Clippy was, well, called Clippy? Ah well, it could be worse; you could have an old war-era comm. officer turned captain for your CO._

_Like me._

_ _

_=Maestro=_

_ _

Maestro pressed send. It wouldn't actually go anywhere until they were in range of the Rapleetah. With that done, he pulled off his flight suit, tossed the undershirt down the laundry chute, and went to bed.

He didn't catch the broken, distorted image of Admiral Geoffrey Tolwyn that flashed on the comm. terminal in the wall to his back.

But it was gone in a second anyway.

---

NOTE: Just so it's not confusing, I use the star chart that came with WCP when plotting systems around and such, so there's a method to the madness of systems.


	4. Return of the Beast

Impresario 4

"This thing is what, ten kilometers long," Maestro sipped his coffee, "and I _still _feel like a cooped up grandmother after 2 days of no flight time."

"Nah, it's just the new-age econo-small rooms, this bridge for instance," Rollins answered, setting his own mug on the drink holder in his chair. "The old war era bridges, probably the one on the old Behemoth, too, were two floors about three times the size of this, all of it with picture windows lining the whole damn thing. The design philosophy was insanely ridiculous; bridge crews lived in perpetual fear of incoming torpedoes."

Maestro nodded. "Isn't the flight deck the guts of an old Ranger?"

"Yep, the lounge is to, I think."

"And who made this coffee," the pilot added.

"I did," Rollins beamed, "I make the best coffee I ever tasted. Besides, nowadays, I need it."

"Captain, may I speak freely?"

"Of course.

Holding the mug out, Maestro said, "this is the absolute worst… stuff… I've ever drank. Counting the Boom Boom."

"I'm sorry Lieutenant," Rollins answered, without skipping a beat, "_when _is Xavier clearing you for duty?"

He chugged his coffee, making sure Maestro heard every gulp. The pilot winced. "Hmmph, and after I let you up here to keep tabs on your friends for hours."

"I'll never lay off booze again," Maestro massaged around the medical bandages keeping the gash in his forehead closed.

"You pilots have it made," Rollins commented, taking a data pad from a passing crewman and studying the contents. "All the alcohol you want. Comm. officers were never trusted with that. And here I am on medication, I _still _can't drink," his eyes lit up as he read the report. "Has HQ sent us ANYTHING yet?"

The last remark was directed toward the comm. officer.

"No sir."

"You'd think they'd be eager to have their shiny new invasion preventing weapon repaired. Ah well, helm, keep us on course for Confederation space, and keep avoiding the traffic routs," he pulled up a nav map. "In about five seconds I'm going to ask the Firekkan Planetary Alliance for dry dock time."

"Are we really that desperate," Maestro asked.

"Are you kidding," Rollins laughed, "half of our weapons are still down, we blew _another _superconductor just by transferring power from the main cannon the other day, and I've been getting reports from crewmen that have seen Admiral Tolwyn."

Rollins' voice gave away that he thought the crew were going insane.

"What does he do, haunt this thing," a serious Maestro answered. Rollins didn't pick up on it. "What _are _Maniac and the cat doing, anyway?"

"We just sent the SWACS out to give them a sensor boost, they reported back an intermittent signal and they can't pin it down. Should be getting halfway there any second, close enough for a scan."

"Maniac to Behemoth," the bridge speakers flared, "the SWACS got it, it's a distress signal. Whatcha' want us to do?"

"Respond to it, Maniac. Get your gun camera up and feeding to us. Whatever it is, it's just out of sensor range."

---

"This better not be anything big," Maniac commented. "There's only two of us and an SWACS. Great patrol, eh?"

"Were you not titled 'Maniac' for a love of absurd risks?"

"So sue me, even I get old," the major responded. "Doesn't mean they have any more of a chance then they would've 20 years ago!"

At that, a stray missile passed between the two Panthers.

"It would seem we have arrived," Jeager commented. Not far away was a Kilrathi corvette just getting close enough to see, and scanners read its escort: two Excaliburs and three Dralthi fending off a wing of old Arrows and several Thunderbolts. Several of the Arrows ganged up on one of the Excaliburs and tore it apart before the pilot could eject, flames from the damaged corvette serving as a backdrop.

"Lookout 1, can you jam the enemy fighters' communications," Jeager inquired. It would make things easier if they couldn't coordinate.

"Not this far away, Alpha; we're still heading for you, but I doubt we'll get there before it's over."

"Mayday, mayday, any Confederate or Border World forces please assist," came a heavy Russian accent from the remaining Excalibur, Maniac and Jeager now close enough to receive from the old fighter's damaged comm. system.

The Excalibur rolled around and shot apart one of the Arrows, but two more and a Thunderbolt were bearing down on the fighter. Before they could fire off their guns, a salvo of missiles and Ion fire destroyed the mystery fighters just before Maniac and Jeager zoomed by.

"It is about time," the Corvette's ranking officer yelled over the comm., though he was clearly more relieved then angry. "Assist us, humans!"

"And who are you calling human," Jeager retorted, destroying another Thunderbolt. "Who are they?"

"You're guess is as good as mine," the Excalibur pilot answered, her voice choppy from the damaged comm. array. "They just up and attacked. Watch it!"

The last Thunderbolt braved the corvette's guns and launched a torpedo. The bomber exploded under the laser fire a split second later, but the projectile streaked toward its target and slammed into the Corvette's starboard wing. The small ship's phase shields were no match for the Lancer and the entire section exploded, sending what was left of the ship to careen away and destroying two Dralthi in the shockwave.

"Hah! He goes down anyway," the Corvette officer cheered over a garbled comm. channel, his ship eradiated but still with life support.

"Feel my wrath, ape," the last Dralthi pilot taunted as he destroyed one of the remaining arrows. Maniac destroyed the last two.

"This is an interesting situation," Maniac commented. The Corvette was surprisingly well off, considering the munitions it had been smashed with, and was setting a course for an installation.

"Your assistance is appreciated, human, I shall escort our vessel away," the last Dralthi commed. If he thought he could protect half of a corvette in a decade old fighter, Maniac wasn't going to say otherwise.

"Hey uh, excuse me," the Excalibur pilot commed, "if it isn't too much trouble, could you could spare some room on your ship for me? I'm not in a condition for a long flight, I don't think…"

As if to prove her point, a stabilizer on the trashed Excalibur visibly exploded.

"This is not what we need," Rollins suddenly came over the comm. "We're covert ops, pilot. If you come aboard, you stay aboard. Consider it a transfer of sorts."

"Hey, wait a minute here, I'm not even Confederation…"

"All the more reason you stay, it's your choice."

"…fine," the pilot conceded.

"Alright. Maniac, Jeager, escort her to the Behemoth."

---

The old Excalibur looked out of place on the flight deck. Despite the deck's former role as the guts of a Ranger class carrier, it had all been overhauled and was in pristine condition.

The Excalibur, however, was more then just damaged; it was aged. The paint job was long smeared from laser fire of missions past and some of its gunnery hard points held Reaper cannons instead of Tachyon guns.

The pilot, decked out in a Border Worlds Militia flight suit, didn't seem like she let this fluster as she climbed from the cockpit. She did, however, take a second to glance at her fighter, remembering other tough times it had gotten her through. She had a feeling it wasn't going to fly again; the fight against the unidentified fighters had taken the last of its life.

"Forget help, it needs a 'condemned' sign."

She spun around to find a pair of Confederate officers walking across the hanger, one not in full uniform. The one in front snapped off a salute.

"Captain Ted Rollins, TCS Behemoth. Welcome aboard."

She returned the gesture. "Major Natalie Romana, Border Worlds Militia. Quite a ship you've got here Captain."

"Oh we're all well aware of it, Major Romona," Maestro couldn't help but comment.

"Romana."

"Pardon?"

"Romana. With an a," she tossed Maestro her helmet, prompting confusion to paint his face. In reality, his lack of a full uniform made him look like the ship's grease monkey. Rollins thought it was pretty damn funny.

"Why Captain, I believe that's the first time you've shown a sense of humor," Maestro quipped, turning the worn object over in his hands before tossing it behind his head.

"Yes, isn't it," answered Rollins. "This coming from someone who thinks 'we're gonna miss you, Bug!' is pretty damn hysterical." He turned and started to leave. "I'll leave you to show the Major around, Maestro, while I get Command on the line and slide her name onto the Confed/Border worlds exchange list. After I get some sleep."

"He seems… eccentric," Romana commented.

"Oh, you don't know the half of it. By showing you around I have a feeling he means "situation report," so I think the briefing room should be our first stop." Maestro gave a mock bow and extended his arms in a 'you first' manner.

"And what's your rank again," she raised an eyebrow.

"I think I'll wait until you're actually on the flight roster to tell you that."

"And I thought your fighters were modern," Romana couldn't help but notice that even the briefing room was a decade above what she was used to. "Confed spares no expense."

"Hey, it's cheaper," Maestro answered. "Grab a seat, check out the ICIS, I'll see if I can run this thing."

"I don't have anything against Confed, pilot. You don't need to be defensive."

Maestro sat at the computer station, looked it over, and started typing in commands. "I'm not, it really _is _cheaper." After a few mishaps and an instance of accidentally calling up Admiral Tolwyn's old entry into the original command roster, despite being nowhere near those files, he set up the needed information.

"Whaddaya want first: Behemoth's specifications, the latest threat to the future of sentient life blah blah blah, or the recent mission logs?"

"Oh any order is fine, considering that you're going to great lengths to educate me in such normally mundane things as a mission log, I'm sure it's all just full of surprises."

"And a few explosions," Maestro tapped enter and stood. "Enjoy your briefing, Major." 

---

"So Jeager, mind if I ask ya' a question?"

Hopping over the bar, Maestro dug around for the Boom Boom. Maniac was curiously absent, probably on the bridge or taking a nap or something.

"Considering the source, I probably should, but you would ask anyway. Go ahead."

"What drug killed your brain long enough to inspire you to sign on with Confed, anyway?"

The Kilrathi sighed. "Is this going to be one of those 'don't see many Killie Kats in Confed uniforms' things? I've really had my fill of that."

"Ack, no no no," Maestro waved his arms, determined to a show a lack of Kilrathi hate. Steven Garret had no qualms about it, so naturally little Maxwell had taken the opposite view before he even knew what it meant just to piss him off. "Really, I'm curious."

"I flew for the Empire during the last year of the war. My father didn't know I existed as I was born after his personality overlay, but nevertheless, I found I enjoyed it. Even the killing, no offense. If joining the Confederation space force meant keeping me in the air, I didn't give it a second though."

"You made it this far, must've been a good call," Maestro answered.

Jeager said; "making it is an understatement in some cases. The first carrier I was stationed on, the Sundagger, the Captain couldn't stand me. He retired just before my promotion to major about five years ago."

"That's not funny."

Taken aback the human's sudden serious tone, Jeager responded with "I should hope not, it's not supposed to be. Captain Garret certainly wasn't a ball of laughs."

"Have you actually looked at the flight roster," Maestro asked, the edge in his voice gone as he realized he'd snapped without thinking, but the seriousness was still there.

"Of course."

"What does it say?"

Not yet realizing what Maestro was getting at, Jeager read the list from memory. "Major Todd Marshal, Major Jeager nar Hallas, Lieutenant Maxwell… Garret… oh my…"

"I can't wait to tell the bastard who my real father is… I'd revive the Black Lance just to piss him off if I could, damn duty-preaching hypocrite."

"I would pay to see that. As that couldn't realistically happen, perhaps you would allow me to be present when you inform him your father was Admiral Tolwyn."

"You're welcome to it," Maestro laughed. "Jesus, I feel like I'm eight years old, we're sitting here," he cracked up, "planning revenge on the bully."

"Were we ever that young," Jeager chuckled. "Your turn, Maestro. Why ask me this?"

"Taggart gave me a message from Dad… Tolwyn… whatever… he recorded. He told me he made sure someone like Steven Garret ended up being my father so I'd be forced into the service. It's true… I joined up to please him… but he also said he had so much faith in the family line that sooner or later I'd want to be here myself. Funny thing is, I think he's right."

"I started flying for the Empire because I just _had _to fight the Heart of the Tiger after hearing the stories," Jeager answered. "If I can do that, anything is possible."

"God, Maniac kicked our collective asses in five seconds on the sim. Imagine how long it would've taken Blair?"

Jeager snorted. "Make sure Maniac doesn't hear you say that. Blair was on mywing this, Blair kept Tolwyn from seeing my talent that."

"Blair stole my woman this," Maestro laughed. "Wonder how the latest pilot is taking in the situation."

He finally poured a shot of the goopy purple drink and downed it, immediately making a face.

"Pardon."

"I set her up on the ICIS with everything. Behemoth, Bugs, Rollins' mental problems, the works."

"I suppose we shall find out. I, however, shall find out tomorrow. Cats need their beauty sleep." Jeager rose and stretched. "Good night, Lieutenant."

It actually hit Maestro as Jeager left that every pilot aboard was a Major except for him. On that random thought, he downed another shot of Boom Boom and grabbed a pad. Behemoth had long since been in Rapleetah and he most likely would have gotten something back from Casey on the Cerberus.

---

"Our shields our down! We can't stop 'em!"

Rollins' console came on the business end of a power surge and popped a shower of sparks at his face shortly after he yelled his comment. Captain Eisen was dashing over, not to check on his comm. officer, Rollins imagined, but what was over here?

The Captain took the helm, right next to him, and franticly punched in a course. There was something in his eyes, something that said "fuck you."

Leaning over, Rollins saw why. He was putting the Victory on a collision course with a Kilrathi dreadnaught. The enemy fleet was looming ahead, rampaging through the battered and weak Confederation capital ships as Earth itself hung in the background.

"Sir, what are you doing? You're heading right into their fleet!"

Though a nagging feeling at the edge of his mind told him something was wrong, Rollins didn't want to die. He was the first to admit that he'd be enough of a coward to live as a Kilrathi slave rather then have his guts torn out by Kilrathi claws.

"They're not taking my ship," Eisen responded, his voice surprisingly calm, until his next words spoke out with every iota of defiance the human race itself held. "We're taking as many of them with as we can. Make your peace, Mr. Rollins!"

The comm. officer's eyes shot back to his display. He didn't want to die.

But when he glanced outside into space, he suddenly didn't care.

The Kilrathi fleet was gone, replaced by a single, solitary planet with sulfur-yellow continents and dark brown bodies of water. Past the terminator were clusters of lights, cities lit up in the night.

"Make your peace," a voice that was most assuredly _not _Captain Eisen's repeated. Rollins spun in his chair and found Admiral Tolwyn himself sitting beside him, a gleam in his eye. "And just pull the trigger."

When Rollins looked back, the bridge of the legendary TCS Victory was gone, replaced by the smaller control center he commanded the Behemoth from, the planet still shining off in the distance.

"No…"

He stood from his chair, his war era lieutenant's uniform gone in favor of a modern day captain's garb. At first glance it didn't look like anyone else was on the bridge, but Tolwyn was standing at Gunnery, imputing commands, readying the destroyer of worlds to strike.

"Why yes, Captain Rollins," the long dead Admiral smirked. Rollins had had enough.

"NO!"

He leapt over the console from his side, intent on knocking Tolwyn into the wall, but Tolwyn was gone as soon as he was in the air.

When he stood, Tolwyn had switched places with him. Rollins' own hands were playing over the controls while the Admiral watched from in front of his chair.

"Just pull the trigger. I would have. Blaire did it. So can you."

He couldn't stop himself. The beam poured from the main cannon, struck the planet…

…and Rollins shot up in bed, soaked in a cold sweat.

Then he remembered Dr. Xavier hadn't given him more Triclanocine to make sure he wouldn't get addicted. She figured the drugs had gotten his body used to the idea of sleep again to the point where he could do it on his own.

And he'd slept… for what it was worth, without the drug keeping the dreams he knew were coming at bay.

"Least I won't go insane…"

---

_Beep beep beep beep..._

The incessant ringing saturated the room, prompting the sole occupant to roll over in bed, disturbed, but not woken up. A few seconds passed, and she murmured, "accept incoming call" in her sleep, not fully aware of the situation in the waking world.

Maniac's face immediately twisted when it popped up on the screen.

"Commander? Hey, Commander! Yoo hoo! Commander! Wake up!"

Patricia Drake did no such thing. Maniac looked off to the side. "Could you hand me that, no, no, _that_… no, the gag horn, yes, that…"

When he pointed the air horn at the screen and blasted it, Drake fell out of bed on the comm. screen's far side.

"Commander?"

A very disheveled Commander-Air-Group stood up in one fluid motion, her face shooting murder at the pilot.

"Point of that. Now."

Her expression didn't change, which was generally a bad sign to people that pissed her off.

"You are gonna love this," Maniac reached off-screen to fiddle with something. The fact that he wasn't bothering with his usual annoying self bothered her. "First chance we get, we hit the Senate again."

She was quite surprised when an official interrogation record came up on her screen to replace Maniac. Stranger still, the footage, taken properly to show everyone involved, was labeled "TCS Behemoth" as the location. Drake wasn't the highest-ranking officer in the Terran Confederation, but she had sources and an almost obligatory knowledge of a couple darker sides to Confed. She knew what the Behemoth was.

But that didn't compare to the actual content of the footage. She recognized Maniac, but there was a red-haired man in a Captain's uniform she didn't recognize and a woman wearing a doctor's lab coat. Drake rubbed her eyes when the final occupant of the room turned out to be a single, solitary bug.

"Okay then. Why don't we go through this Aligned Peoples thing again, and then the whole Harvest idea," Maniac spoke. The bug cocked its head.

Maniac had Drake's full attention.

---

NEXT: As I have it planned now, Impresario will be a trilogy. Might change, but, for the moment, the first part ends with the next chapter, and with the plot I have planned, you ain't seen nothin' yet. Neither has Maestro, for that matter.

Yes, I am a tease. Mwa.


End file.
